


Portobello Belle

by wasatch_97



Series: Sunflower [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: But mostly fluff, Dancing, Flirty Han Jisung | Han, Flower Crowns, Fluff and Angst, Han Jisung | Han is Whipped, Han Jisung | Han is a Sweetheart, M/M, Orphans, Shy Minho, at first, based off a dire straits song, idk lol, in a desert town??, jisung is surviving, minho is wandering, minho the embarrassed cutie, minsung - Freeform, naive jisung, random but hey, somewhat open ending?? ig, theyre adorable, this is a mess lmao, this isnt raunchy i swear but theres a part that alludes to smut, uuh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasatch_97/pseuds/wasatch_97
Summary: “New around here?”The man smiles shyly, “I suppose it’s obvious?” His voice is warm, honeyed, soothing.“Maybe, or maybe I’ve just lived here too long and can spot a new face. Especially a pretty face.” Jisung knows he’s shameless but he can’t help that part of his personality, call it a curse.The man blushes slightly, the faintest of pinks. He twists a silver ring on his pointer finger nervously, “And do you flirt with every newcomer?”“Just those with pretty faces,” Jisung grins, stretching out a hand. “My name’s Jisung.”The stranger glances at Jisung’s calloused hand, as if weighing his options, and to Jisung’s pleasure he takes it, slim and smooth fingers brushing lightly against Jisung’s rough skin. “Minho,” he says, voice soft and quiet, “that’s me.” He giggles, looking away from Jisung in embarrassment at his awkwardness, retracting his hand to push it through his hair.Alternately, a wanderer and an outcast stumble upon each other in the city streets.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: Sunflower [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608109
Comments: 16
Kudos: 125





	Portobello Belle

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyy welcome to my new pseud~~ I found this draft deep in the recesses of my drive and I've been wanting to post something so here it is! I was using Dire Straits songs as prompts & obviously this one was based off of Portobello Belle lol >< This is a complete mess but tragically nothing else I have is near finished :( anyways, enjoy!

“Jisung, it’s getting late, you should head out.” 

Jisung glances up at his boss while continuing to wipe down the bar. “You sure? I still have an hour left on my shift.” 

The elder man nods, “It’s dead here anyways, I’ll have one of the others finish up for you. You’ve been putting in a lot of extra hours, get some rest.” The restaurant really is dead - all the customers have left for the night, the clock hanging above the door reading almost eleven in the evening. 

Jisung sighs out a yes, tossing the rag into a bin behind the counter and brushing off his grey, partially undone button up and black jeans. He sticks his head into the back room and says a few quick goodbyes to his coworkers before heading out of the building and onto the streets. The air is warm, not quite muggy but lingering close, and the sky is black, stars sprinkled across - sparkling above Jisung and his world. 

Jisung often wonders what it would be like to wander - to see the ends of the earth and everything in between. To see if the stars really do dot the sky no matter where he stands. But he’s confined to this small city, perpetually warm and always bustling with nightlife. 

If he was to pick one thing he loved most about his home it would be every moment between sunset and sunrise, when the sky is pitch and the cobble streets burst with the glow of light bulbs strung above. He loves the people - how they come alive when the sun goes down, how they change from their boring mundane selves into dancers and singers and artists and _magic._

Already around him the city is coming alive - the strings of bulbs casting light onto the men, women, and children dressed in pinks and oranges, holding hands and running through the streets. There are artists painting portraits full of reds and yellows, every color adding to the mural of the city’s life. 

Jisung walks aimlessly, having nothing to hurry to, instead soaking up the warmth of the night. He passes a crowd of students, red and orange bandanas in their hair and around their wrists, their voices joined in happy chatter. Jisung smiles to himself at seeing the joy in their eyes, the infectious magic of the night glittering in their hearts. He continues on, coming up on the small family-owned hotel of the city when he sees him. 

A man, roughly about Jisung’s age, is stepping out of the building, quite obviously a visitor, for Jisung has never seen him before and he knows or knows of almost everyone living in this tiny little desert city. From across the street Jisung can see that the man’s hair is blond and he’s wearing a white shirt, loose on his frame, and unfitted jeans, cuffed at the bottom with brown laced up boots. Jisung watches as the man observes the street, the _life,_ with wide, curious eyes until his gaze falls on Jisung. 

Jisung isn’t shy and doesn’t have a great sense of self-dignity, so once he notes that the man isn’t looking away and doesn’t look disgusted, he weaves across the street. As he comes to stand in front of the man Jisung can see the details he missed from far away - like how the man’s shirt hangs off one shoulder just slightly, oversized and tucked into jeans which have pink and red flowers embroidered on the pockets. Around his thin wrists are a few leather and braided bracelets and resting against the hollow of his throat is a dark oval gem backed with silver; the pendant of a velvet choker wrapped around his delicate neck. 

The man’s hair is ruffled, soft-looking and covering his forehead in waves while his pink lips contrast prettily with his pale skin. But his eyes are what capture Jisung - large and dark, lined with black kohl and glittering with the reflections of the hanging lights or the stars. Or both, Jisung supposes. 

“New around here?” 

The man smiles shyly, “I suppose it’s obvious?” His voice is warm, honeyed, soothing. 

“Maybe, or maybe I’ve just lived here too long and can spot a new face. Especially a pretty face.” Jisung knows he’s shameless but he can’t help that part of his personality, call it a curse. 

The man blushes slightly, the faintest of pinks. He twists a silver ring on his pointer finger nervously, “And do you flirt with every newcomer?” 

“Just those with pretty faces,” Jisung grins, stretching out a hand. “My name’s Jisung.” 

The stranger glances at Jisung’s calloused hand, as if weighing his options, and to Jisung’s pleasure he takes it, slim and smooth fingers brushing lightly against Jisung’s rough skin. “Minho,” he says, voice soft and quiet, “that’s me.” He giggles, looking away from Jisung in embarrassment at his awkwardness, retracting his hand to push it through his hair. 

Jisung smiles, watching as Minho’s blond locks filter past his fingers and fall back to hide his forehead, already enamoured. “So, are you staying or just passing through?” 

“Passing through,” Minho says, peering timidly at Jisung. He stands just slightly taller than Jisung but his hesitant persona makes him seem small, in need of protection. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.” 

Jisung feels something akin to disappointment somewhere inside of him but brushes it off. “Well, you’ve arrived just in time to see the city come alive.” 

Minho tilts his head slightly, hair slipping to hide his eyes. “Alive?” 

Jisung hums, nodding. “In the daytime this place is bland - only at night can you see the color that really exists here.” 

Minho blinks slowly, eyes meeting Jisung’s. “Will you show me? The colors?” 

Jisung smiles, “I thought you’d never ask.” Minho flushes prettily, almost bashfully. Jisung holds out a hand, grinning as Minho takes it. “Let’s go.” 

Jisung leads Minho through the cobble streets and between groups of people, the feeling of his warm hand in his own so comfortable, maybe too much so. “To have the full experience of a night here we have to stop at the food vendors,” Jisung says, slowing to a stop, the scent of freshly baked bread and frying meat thick in the air. Minho’s eyes light up at the prospect of food and Jisung finds it adorable. “This way,” he guides, leading Minho deeper into the rows of vendors. 

After fighting their way through the throngs of people they end up with a handful of skewers and a few slices of still-hot bread and Jisung shows Minho to a half wall, wide enough to sit cross-legged on. They set their food on the stone before Jisung gives Minho a boost up. “Wait here and I’ll be back in a second with drinks,” Jisung says, patting Minho’s knee. 

“Okay,” Minho says, hesitant, and nibbles at a corner of one of the slices of bread. Jisung can’t help the goofy smile that appears on his lips from Minho and his large eyes. Shaking his head, he hurries off, jogging over to a tent and buying two orange cream sodas. 

Minho is staring out at the busy streets when Jisung returns, climbing onto the wall with practiced ease. “Here,” he presses one of the drinks into Minho’s hand, taking a sip from his own. “This soda is wildly important for the progression of this night. The magic drink to keep you awake.” 

Minho giggles, cracking open the can. “I haven’t had soda in forever.” 

Jisung grabs a skewer, stuffing meat into his mouth. “Where are you from?” 

“Nowhere in particular,” Minho says between bites of bread. “I was in the foster care system in a big city. But, um, I never found a home, not one that would care for me, love me. They all just wanted the money.” Jisung observes him, noting that his expression is sad, but there’s a spark of hate in his eyes. “Anyways, when I became legal I worked full time to save up enough money to travel. And I did - I’ve been hoping from one city to the next, looking. For my meaning, I guess.” He takes a gulp of his soda, eyes far away. “What about you? I mean, what’s your life like?” 

Jisung frowns, tapping his nails against the can. “I’m an orphan too - but I didn’t have the option of foster care or adoption, really, I was just left here. Had to learn to live on the streets, find a way to go to school, and then got a job. I found an apartment when I turned nineteen that I could afford to rent. And I’ve been surviving ever since.” He leaves out the memories of him struggling through the winters, the way he cried when he slept on the mattress he had found in the dump for the first time in his tiny apartment. A boy, skin and bones, barely holding onto the idea of life. 

Minho looks conflicted, eyebrows drawing together. “For - for what it’s worth I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he says, voice soft. “No one deserves that.” 

Jisung nods, “I’m sorry too. That you never found a home.” 

Minho smiles, all warmth and empathy and Jisung’s heart pounds. “It’s okay. It really is, at least now.” 

They drift off into a silence that isn’t uncomfortable but isn’t comfortable either as they eat. Jisung notices the way Minho glances at him occasionally, his eyes filled with emotion. But it isn’t pity - not like how the few others he had told his story to looked at him - it was admiration. Jisung doesn’t know which look is better. “How old are you?” he decides to ask, breaking the silence. 

Minho chews on his lip, “Twenty-four. You?” 

“Twenty-two,” Jisung sighs, “always the younger one.” 

Minho tries to hide by raising his soda can to his lips but Jisung can see the blush forming on his cheeks. “You okay?” he asks, eyebrow raised. 

“Yeah,” Minho says, setting the can down and tugging at his choker. “I just thought you were older, yeah.” 

Jisung’s eyes widen, a smile slipping onto his lips. “Really?” 

Minho is blushing fully now, hiding behind his fingers. “Your hair, and outfit, um, you look older.” 

Jisung runs a hand through his dark blue hair. “Why are you embarrassed?” 

Minho peeks at him and Jisung grins, chest warm. “I don’t know, I’m not very good at social stuff, I can be poor company, I’m sorry.” 

Jisung reaches out, sliding his fingers over Minho’s wrists and tugging his hands away from his face. Minho’s eyes grow wide and his cheeks flush a darker red. “I like your company,” Jisung says, unconsciously rubbing circles onto the backs of Minho’s hands. “I’m really happy I can show you around tonight.” And he is - even though their conversation had taken a darker turn. Because Minho is much more colorful than any other person in this city as they dance in bright fabrics, and his eyes glow brighter than the lights above. 

Minho smiles timidly, “Me too.” 

“C’mon then, we’ve got to get going then,” Jisung says, letting Minho’s hands go and jumping off the wall, helping Minho climb down. They clean up the garbage, tossing it all into the closest bin. 

“Where to now?” Minho asks when his hand is back in Jisung’s and they’re walking up the streets, fingers laced together as to not lose each other in the masses of people. 

“We have an hour or so until the dancing starts so we need to go get ready.” 

“What do you mean?” Minho asks, biting his bottom lip. 

Jisung smiles at him, walking backwards so they face each other, hand gripping Minho’s firmly. “Color is what brings everything to life and life is what they all celebrate in this dusty little city. So, we’ve got to go find some of it.” 

Minho’s eyes widen and Jisung laughs, turning, and pulls him forward. Jisung guides him up a few streets and to the clothing vendor courtyard. “Woah,” Minho whispers, looking around at the bright tapestries that hang from the tents, people of all ages cooing over fabrics and spinning around in new red and yellow clothes. 

“Jisung!” 

Minho jumps at the call and looks to Jisung for reassurance. Jisung smiles at the older, squeezing his hand, chest warming as he watches Minho relax at the touch. They walk over to the old woman who had called out, Minho hiding partially behind Jisung, his shy personality coming out full force. “What are you doing in this part of the city, kiddo?” the woman asks, brushing her greying hair from her face and straightening some stacks of red shirts. Jisung has known her for many years - she gave him shelter on a few particular cold nights when he lived on the streets, sparing what little food she could for him. He owed her so much - for what she had done to help him live. 

“I’ve brought my friend here to dance,” Jisung explains, rolling his eyes when the vendor grins at him, eyebrows raising in an act to tease him. 

“Are you looking for clothes?” 

Minho is so close Jisung can feel his breath on the back of his neck. “Yes, could I leave Minho here with you? You always know what looks best.” 

The woman nods and Minho whines quietly, nervously, but Jisung turns to him and takes both of his hands. “I’ll be back in no time, I’ve known Auntie since forever, she’s a sweetheart.” 

Minho chews on his lip - a common habit, Jisung realises - eyes flickering with anxiety. “O-Okay,” he whispers, holding onto Jisung tightly. 

“Take care of him,” Jisung says to the woman, squeezing Minho’s hands. “I’ll be back in twenty.” Minho whimpers softly when Jisung pulls away from him and his heart stings as the older looks at him to stay, but Jisung simply smiles and turns away. He hurries to the other side of the square, looking for another shop he knows fairly well, one tended by a vendor that he can barter with easily. And sure enough, minutes later, he emerges from their temporary changing station in a flowy orange shirt with a red bandana tied around his wrist and a second threaded through his belt loops. 

Jisung makes his way back to the first tent, greeting the woman. She agrees quickly when Jisung asks if he can leave his original shirt at her booth and come back for it later, and lets her have the clothing, watching her tuck it into a woven bag under one of the tables. “Where’s Minho?” he asks, looking around. She smirks and gestures to the curtains hung up for privacy. Not a second later Minho steps out and Jisung’s heart stops. 

Minho’s still wearing his jeans and boots but his white shirt is gone, replaced with a pink top, tied with thick strips of silky fabric in a halter style behind his neck and tucked into his high-waisted jeans. Long sleeves only start half-way down his biceps, leaving his pale shoulders bare. It’s trimmed with a yellow ruffle, the colors warming his pearly skin and making his eyes glow. 

“Do I look okay?” Minho asks, tugging at the sleeves nervously. “The back is, um,” he turns around and Jisung gulps. The shirt is backless, only connecting again where it is tucked into his pants. Minho’s skin is unblemished, save for the tattoos of the cycle of the moon down his spine. 

“You look beautiful,” Jisung whispers when Minho faces him again and the older gasps faintly, a blush on his cheeks. Jisung can’t help but continue to look at Minho, drinking in his appearance. 

“You look handsome,” Minho returns, smiling shyly. Jisung is the one to blush this time, but grins broadly. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

Jisung shakes his head, “Thank you for coming with me.” He reaches out, lacing their fingers together and Minho giggles softly, moving closer. 

“How much?” Jisung asks, turning to the woman, ignoring Minho’s arguing that he should be the one to pay. But the vendor shakes her head, quickly telling them to enjoy themselves. 

“She was too nice,” Minho says giddily as they walk side by side deeper into the heart of the city. “She also said I could pick my shirt up later so I don’t have to carry it around.” 

Jisung chuckles at his enthusiasm, gaze drifting down to their joined hands. “I’m glad you’re having a good time.” 

Minho turns to him, blinding him with a wide smile. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.” 

Jisung smiles, nudging his shoulder. As they walk Jisung spots a trio of girls up ahead on the side of the road. “Hey, I have one more idea.” 

“Hm?” Minho questions, eyebrows raising. 

Jisung just winks, leading him over to the group. “You’re doing makeup?” he asks, glancing over their hair products and makeup pallets. 

The teenagers nod, pointing at their sign. “Can we do anything for you?” the tallest girl asks, smiling brightly at them. 

Jisung nudges Minho forward ever so slightly. “This is Minho, he’s visiting and I want to give him the full experience at the dance. Can you guys help me out?” 

Jisung laughs as their eyes light up as they look Minho over and Minho’s eyes are wide when he glances to the younger. “Sungie…” 

“You’ll be fine,” Jisung says, smiling at the name. He hands a brown-haired girl a few bills and passes Minho off to them. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he,” Jisung says, grinning as Minho’s cheeks redden. 

“Yes,” the girls chime in. “Your boyfriend is gorgeous,” the blonde-haired girl says and Minho’s eyes blow wide. 

“I- he- um… it,” he stutters, face in flames. 

“I need to grab something, I’ll be back,” Jisung says, smiling at the girls and waving at Minho. Minho looks broken, blinking slowly, eyes massive with embarrassment and shock. Jisung hurries over to a nearby booth he had spotted as they had walked up, and barters with the vendor until he comes away with a flower crown. The crown is made of peonies and yellow roses tinged with pink, along with baby’s breath and a few green leaves peeking out. It’s beautiful, almost as much as the man it’s for. 

When Jisung returns, Minho is talking quietly with the laughing girls, makeup done as they work on his hair. His lids and inner corners are dusted with yellow while pink is blended out past his crease and under his eyes. His eyeliner is toned down while mascara has been added to finish the look. 

“It’s a bit dramatic but you said you were going to dance,” the third girl says, smiling at Jisung’s expression. “He’s pretty, right?” 

Jisung nods, meeting Minho’s eyes. “Beautiful.” 

Minho looks down, blushing. “Is that for him?” the brown-haired girl asks, gesturing to the crown. Jisung nods and holds it out, the girls taking it excitedly, hurrying to finish curling Minho’s hair out of his eyes. When they’re done they settle the crown on his hair and pin it down, smiling at their work. 

Jisung holds out a hand for Minho to take when he stands up, pulling him close. Minho’s eyes shimmer with golden lights and Jisung’s heart flutters. “You are angelic,” Jisung whispers, brushing a stray hair from his forehead. 

“I’m not,” Minho blushes, squeezing Jisung’s hands. “You’re being too good to me. I don’t deserve this.” 

Jisung smiles, bringing their joined hands up and kissing Minho’s knuckles, watching his cheeks turn pink. “You deserve the world, Belle.” 

Minho’s eyes widen, “Jisung—” 

Jisung shushes him gently, turning to the girls who are swooning at their display. “Thank you, you three.” 

“It was fun,” they smile, waving goodbye. 

“Jisung, why did you call me that?” Minho whispers as they walk into the heart of the city. 

Jisung glances at him, smiling. “There’s no other name properly suited to you.” 

Minho whines softly, bringing his free hand up to hide his face. “Sungie…” 

Jisung stops and Minho bumps into his chest, blushing when Jisung anchors him there, hands on his forearms, the silky fabric of Minho’s shirt bunching underneath his fingers. “We’re here.” 

Minho glances around, eyes big as he takes in the large courtyard at the center of the city doused in light from the strung bulbs. There’s a band playing upbeat folksongs and the sounds of feet moving and laughter fill the air as the whole city dances, bright colors weaving in and out of each other in time with the music. Couples dance together while grandmothers spin their grandchildren, kids scurrying about between the people playing games but the most light - joy - comes from the generations of people dancing, loving. 

“Belle? What’s wrong?” Jisung asks frantically as Minho’s eyes turn glossy. He cups his face, running his thumbs over Minho’s cheekbones. 

“Nothing,” Minho smiles, raising a hand to rest on his forearm. “It’s just so beautiful.” 

Jisung laughs, pressing a kiss to Minho’s forehead. “Let’s live it. Dance with me?” 

Minho blushes, nodding. Jisung takes his waist and other hand, meeting Minho’s eyes, and then they dance. 

They travel around the cobble courtyard, smiling and laughing, the music and colors and _life_ flowing through them. Jisung spins Minho and the older’s face is so bright Jisung is near blinded. Soon partners are spun apart and Minho is dancing with someone new. Jisung can see his nervousness but sends him a grin, receiving a smile in return. 

Minutes turn into hours as they dance, winding up as partners again and dancing with the same fervency as when they started. “This is the best thing I’ve ever experienced!” Minho laughs when Jisung leads him into the next song. His eyes turn a bit serious, meeting Jisung’s. “I am so lucky to have you with me.” 

“Belle,” Jisung whispers, cupping Minho’s cheek as the music turns to a slow tune, the first of the evening. Minho’s eyes grow large, fingers tangling in the hairs at Jisung’s nape. There’s something in his eyes - something that tells Jisung his heart isn’t the only one that’s beating double time. “Tell me… if you want this - us. Or not.” 

Minho blinks at him, fingers tangling in the collar of his shirt. “I-I do.” 

Jisung searches his glowing eyes. “I’m going to kiss you, is that okay?” Minho nods shakily and Jisung leans in, pressing their lips together. 

Kissing Minho feels natural, like they’ve kissed hundreds of times before. Minho’s lips are soft, contrasting with Jisung’s slightly chapped ones. It’s innocent, Minho pulling away with a blush, hiding his face against Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung strokes his back, Minho’s skin so warm and smooth. “Belle?” 

“Yes?” Minho whispers, looking up to meet Jisung’s eyes. 

Jisung breathes in deeply, the scent of the city overpowering his nose but there’s also the scent of the flowers in Minho’s hair and a sweet smell Jisung knows is Minho’s. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And it’s not because my life is bare - it’s because you’re you. Bright, sweet, beautiful - an angel trapped on earth. I’m just lucky to have found you.” 

Minho smiles, pressing his lips to Jisung’s, taking him by surprise. “Jisung, you - you showed me a world I never knew existed, never knew I needed,” Minho says, pressing their foreheads together. “And the best part is that in that world I’ve met you.” 

“I’ve known you for what, six hours?” Jisung murmurs, pecking Minho’s lips. His arms are wrapped around Minho’s waist, keeping him as close as possible. “I care for you, Belle, unlike anyone else who has ever been in my life.” 

“Ji,” Minho whispers, tearing up. He strokes Jisung’s cheek, sparks dancing in his eyes. 

By now they’re just swaying side to side, the courtyard slowly beginning to empty. Jisung kisses Minho’s cheeks and nose, making the older giggle. “I know you have a journey ahead of you, and I don’t expect you to put down roots here with me. Hell, I want you to go see the world, whatever it is that will make you happy. Just know that I am here. I’ll always be here for you, if you want me.” 

Minho’s bottom lip is wobbling slightly. “I don’t deserve you.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” Jisung parrots, hugging Minho tight. “I adore you so damn much.” 

They stay like that, hugging, until the band stops, the people disappearing slowly. 

~ 

“Here,” Jisung says as they’re walking back to the hotel, his arm tight around Minho’s waist and the older’s head resting against his shoulder. He had bought two chocolates, Minho peering over his shoulder and giggling in delight as he bartered. Minho takes the small square from Jisung, following his lead and biting into it, letting the sweet taste dissolve on his tongue. Jisung smiles at him, kissing him softly when they finish. 

As they continue on they stumble across a small crowd dancing to the music of a guitar and harmonica. The couple can’t help but join in again, Jisung spinning Minho around and laughing along with the others. Several kids take Minho’s hands and pull him away from Jisung, Jisung’s heart so full as he watches Minho giggle and dance along with the small boys and girls. Minho is the light, the colors, the music, the magic as he pulls grandfathers and wives into the circle, spinning them around before turning to the ever growing circle, flashing smiles and giggling to coax more laughing people into the dance. 

As a group of teens join, waving bandanas, Minho winds his way back to Jisung, taking his hand with a sweet smile. “One last dance for the Belle!” the musicians shout over the chatter and laughter, making Minho blush. With a cheer the music continues, Jisung never once letting go of Minho as they dance. 

“Sungie,” Minho giggles, drawing close to tug on his shirt. His makeup is a little bit smudged and his hair is tousled, falling in curls from under the crown. His shirt is flowing in the warm breeze and he looks so insanely beautiful Jisung can’t stop himself as he pulls Minho into a narrow alleyway behind some shops, pushing him up against the brick. 

“Sung,” Minho breathes, whimpering when Jisung bends to kiss his neck, nipping at his pale skin to leave purpling bruises behind. Jisung hums when Minho tugs him up into a kiss, coaxing Minho’s lips apart, thumbs rubbing at his waist. “Sungie,” Minho whispers, eyes glazed and lips red when they pull away for air. 

Jisung smiles, kissing his cheeks. “Let’s go back,” he whispers, Minho nodding. 

They walk in silence to the vendor, grabbing their bag of shirts, and walk to the hotel, hands clasped together. Jisung feels torn between joy and pain because he knows he doesn’t have much time left with this angel, but he knows he never wants to spend a moment of sadness with him. So Jisung laughs as Minho pulls him through the hallways and into his room, locking the door behind them. 

The room is average, a bed in the corner with a wardrobe pushed up against the other wall, paint chipping off the walls and the light casting a golden glow over the room. There’s a door in the corner that leads to a tiny bathroom, completing the room. Minho is standing a few feet away, eyes soft as he stares at Jisung. He spots a polaroid camera on the wardrobe and is quick to grab it, Minho’s eyebrows shooting up. 

“So we don’t forget,” Jisung says, pressing into Minho’s side and holding the camera out far enough so they’re both in the shot. “Smile!” 

Minho giggles as the flash goes off, Jisung’s grin wide. They take a few more pictures, laying the film out on the wardrobe to develop. “This is so I don’t forget,” Minho smiles, taking the camera from Jisung and snapping a photo of him. 

Jisung laughs, pulling Minho close to kiss him, stealing it back. He moves away, focusing Minho in the frame. He’s playing with the ring on his finger, smiling shyly at the camera, the flowers in his hair glowing like a halo. 

Jisung takes the photo and grabs the picture, setting both down. Minho hasn’t moved and Jisung crosses to him, raising a hand to trail gentle fingers across his jaw. Minho’s eyes are filled with light and Jisung’s chest is so tight he can hardly breathe. He presses a gentle kiss to Minho’s lips, leading him to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Sitting beside him, he begins to slowly work the crown out of Minho’s hair, fingers brushing over the delicate petals of the flowers. Minho watches him silently, hands resting on Jisung’s thighs. When he has taken it off, Jisung sets the crown aside, running his fingers through Minho’s hair, working out any small knots. He brushes his knuckles against Minho’s cheek, running his thumb over Minho’s lips. “Jisung,” Minho whispers, eyes starry. “Jisung—” 

Jisung searches his face for any sign of uncertainty but doesn’t find any, only warmth in his features. He nods, leaning closer to kiss him, light and barely there. Minho’s breath hitches when Jisung’s fingers tug at his shirt, sliding underneath the fabric and trailing over his skin. 

Jisung smiles when Minho noses at his cheek, grasping at Jisung’s biceps as he unties the fabric at the back of his neck, his shirt falling away. Jisung pushes Minho gently back onto the bed, taking his hands, pushing up his bracelets to kiss his wrists. Minho stares up at him with lidded eyes, lips parted and cheeks faintly flushed. 

There’s a large dreamcatcher tattoo on the lower left of his stomach, the feathers dipping past the high waist of his jeans. Jisung touches the black ink, feeling Minho shiver under his touch. He traces the net, eyes flickering up to meet Minho’s. 

“Your turn,” Minho whispers, tugging at Jisung’s shirt. He smiles, kissing Minho’s forehead and sitting up on his knees to tug his top over his head, the orange fabric joining the pink on the floor. Minho reaches out, pressing his hand over Jisung’s heart, wetting his lips as he feels the speed of his heartbeat. He trails his fingers down Jisung’s chest, over the ridges of his abs, stopping over the scar extending from his lower ribs to hip. “What happened?” 

“At my old job I had when I was young down at the lumber yard a new kid didn’t store a saw blade properly. Wasn’t pretty,” Jisung explains. 

Minho’s eyes blow wide, “Sungie…” 

“Isn’t there a saying that scars are hot?” Jisung jokes, kissing Minho’s smile. He touches the waistband of Minho’s jeans, “Can I?” Minho nods, flushing as Jisung pulls off his jeans and then with a nod of approval his underwear. 

Jisung touches the ends of the feathers of the dreamcatcher tattoo, then he traces the vines stemming from Minho’s right hip across to his navel. On his right thigh is a compass tattoo, an arrow splitting it in half, intricate designs to depict glass shattering making the ink so lifelike. 

“They’re so beautiful,” Jisung says against Minho’s lips, cupping his cheek. “You’re gorgeous, Belle.” 

Minho is smiling when they part, “You flatterer.” 

Jisung laughs, sliding a thigh between Minho’s legs. “For you.” 

Minho’s pupils blow wide, pulling the younger down into a bruising kiss. “Jisung, _please._ ” Jisung hums, letting Minho tug at his own pants. 

~ 

Jisung kisses along Minho’s spine, over the tattoos, Minho playing with his fingers, both propped up on their sides. “Hey, Sungie?” 

Jisung hums, poking at Minho’s side until he falls onto his back with a giggle, Jisung holding himself up on his elbow, their bare legs tangled together. “Yes, Belle?” 

Minho sighs happily as Jisung runs his fingers through his hair, but his words are barely a whisper. “I’m leaving in a few hours.” 

The mood instantly turns heavy. Jisung nods, fingers stilling. “Yeah.” 

Minho takes Jisung’s hand, kissing his palm. “I— I’m not ready to put down roots. Not yet. But you - it feels like you know me. Who I really am, inside and out. And I care for and cherish you, it feels so right when we're together. But it’s not fair for me to ask you to wait for me when I don’t know when I’ll be ready.” 

“Belle, I’m naive when it comes to feelings, but as long as I am somewhere in your heart I’ll wait for you,” Jisung says, feeling a tear slide down his cheek. “I know it’s not the normal way but I know I care for you so much, I know without a doubt that I can spend the rest of my life with you and always be happy.” 

Minho is crying too, wiping away Jisung’s tears. “How? How do you know that?” 

“Because when you danced you became the color, the light, the love. Every beautiful thing in the city suddenly came from your soul, your smile.” Jisung brushes at 

Minho’s tears. “No being on earth could ever be as radiant and beautiful as you were in those moments. When I saw that there was no way I couldn’t - couldn’t love you.” 

Minho sniffles, hiding his face in Jisung’s neck. “I’m going to miss you. So much.” 

Jisung hugs him close, chin resting on the crown of Minho’s head. “I’m going to miss you too.” 

~ 

And as Jisung stands on the balcony of Minho’s room as the sun rises, watching the man he had fallen hopelessly in love with overnight walk away, he knows that in no way could an angel ever be a constant in a life like his. Not when that angel was starry eyes and bright smiles and the magic of the city nights.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://wasatch-97.tumblr.com/)


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